


superheroes crafting and being in love for 30 min gay

by supinetothestars



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain Marvel (2019), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cooking, Crafts, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Pride, Team Red, Team Red Mini Bang 2020, Video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supinetothestars/pseuds/supinetothestars
Summary: superheroes crafting and being in love for 30 min gayBy spooder32 Minutes, 29 Seconds8,354,793 viewsDescription:hey! spiderman here and wishing you all a happy pride month. please enjoy this compilation of a bunch of queer superheroes doing crafts with their found families and being cute and once that’s done check my twitter (link down below) for info on how to get involved with your community this June.Starring:maria and carol rambeau-danvers baking chocolate chip cookies (guest starring: monica rambeau-danvers)daredevil and natasha romanoff cooking pastakate bishop and america chavez painting a birdhouse (guest starring: clint barton)wade wilson and me and daredevil platonically learning how to knit
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau, Kate Bishop/America Chavez, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 9
Kudos: 70
Collections: Team Red Pride Bang





	superheroes crafting and being in love for 30 min gay

**superheroes crafting and being in love for 30 min gay**

**By spooder**

**32 Minutes, 29 Seconds**

**8,354,793 views**

**Description:**

hey! spiderman here and wishing you all a happy pride month. please enjoy this compilation of a bunch of queer superheroes doing crafts with their found families and being cute and once that’s done check my twitter (link down below) for info on how to get involved with your community this June.

Starring:

maria and carol rambeau-danvers baking chocolate chip cookies (guest starring: monica rambeau-danvers)

daredevil and natasha romanoff cooking pasta

kate bishop and america chavez painting a birdhouse (guest starring: clint barton) 

wade wilson and me and daredevil platonically learning how to knit 

\-------------------------------

There’s a flicker of white.

Everything is out of focus. The camera is zoomed in on a patchy bit of ceiling tile. A voice is audible, but indistinguishable through the rustling of whoever’s holding the camera.

The camera pans downwards to focus on a kitchen. Everything is shiny, clean, expensive: white tile, sunlight filtering through out-of-view windows and bouncing off the granite countertops.

Two women are standing behind the counter. Carol Rambeau-Danvers, leaning forward on the granite, stares at something above the camera. Her hair, cut short, is thoroughly mussed, and she’s wearing an aviator’s jacket over a crumpled shirt and jeans. She stifles a yawn. Behind her, leaning backwards on the far countertop, Maria Rambeau-Danvers - clad in jean overalls - fiddles with her phone.

“Maria,” Spider-Man says, from behind the camera. Maria ignores him. “Maria.”

“Hun,” Carol says, looking away from Peter to glance at Maria. “He’s recording.”

Maria glances up from her phone. “Huh? Oh, are we starting?”

Another voice, this one Monica Rambeau-Danvers. “Now who’s on her phone too much, Mom?” She drawls, audibly smirking.

Maria glances up, eyes widening. “Sorry,” she says. “I was looking through the recipe. Do we have any extra bags of chocolate chips?”

“I got all the ingredients beforehand,” Peter says. “It only needs one bag.”

“Okay, but, theoretically,” Maria says. “If I were to add an extra bag. Of chocolate chips. Would it really be _detrimental_ , per say, to the recipe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter says through a smile. “Aren’t you supposed to start with the flour, though?”

Maria shakes her head and flashes him the screen, which catches the sunlight and causes a camera flare. “Nuh-uh. Step one: mix the sugars and the butter.”

“I think it was flour,” Carol says. “I read through it earlier.”

“No, sugars and butter,” Maria says. She drags two bags of sugar from the pile of ingredients to her left, on the far counter, and sets them in front of the camera. A hand - presumably, Peter’s - reaches in front of the camera and pushes them so they don’t block the frame.

Carol frowns, straightening to get out of Maria’s way. “I swear it said flour.”

“Okay, check the _recipe_ , Carol,” Maria says, absently offering her phone.

Carol takes Maria’s phone, skims it, and shrugs. “Yeah, okay. Before after yadda yadda. It all goes in the same pot anyway, no difference.”

“Honey,” Maria says, giving her a long-suffering look. “ _Honey._ This is why she’s a terrible cook, Spidey,” she says to the camera. “Doesn’t get the _delicacy_ of the entire operation - Carol, hand me a bowl.”

“Rude,” Carol says cheerfully, and squats down out of view to loudly clatter the dishware below the counter. Maria pulls two sticks of butter from the pile of ingredients and opens a drawer over the dishware cabinet, searching for a knife.

“Here we go-” Carol tries to stand and hits her head on the drawer with a crash, prompting a loud yelp. “Mother _fucker_ , son of a bitch, ow, shiiiiit _._ ”

“Shit! Sorry,” Maria says, covering her mouth in horror. She looks down at Carol, who’s still crouched below the counter. “You okay?”

“I dented your drawer.”

Monica’s laughter echoes across the room.

“You dented Tony Stark’s drawer,” Maria corrects. “And frankly, the man can buy as many drawers as he wants.”

Maria pulls Carol to her feet. There’s a noticeably flattened patch of hair on the top of Carol’s head. Maria ruffles it. 

“I think we’re supposed to be cooking,” Carol says. 

Maria makes a noise of agreement and hands her the bag of sugar. “Bowl.”

Carol eyes the recipe on Maria’s phone as she shovels out the sugar. Maria does something with a knife and sticks of butter as her back is turned to the camera and then deposits it in the sugar. All ingredients properly collected, Maria presents Carol with a hand mixer she’d found in a drawer.

A brief scuffle ensues as Carol struggles and then succeeds to find an outlet not camouflaged by Tony Stark’s overly clever outlet covers. Once the outlet was successfully located, her attempt to remove the outlet cover by nondestructive means fails and results in her accidentally ripping the white plastic entirely off the wall.

“Whoops.”

Maria stares. “It still looks functional.”

“One way to find out,” Carol suggests, and swiftly proves herself correct. 

The hum of the electric mixer drowns out any conversation for several long minutes, during which Monica sneaks behind the two women and steals one of the bags of chocolate chips. After, as Carol unplugs and sets aside the mixer, Maria starts sorting through the other ingredients.

“You’re supposed to be talking about Pride,” Spiderman points out. 

Carol glances up at him. “Huh?”

“You’re supposed to be talking about Pride,” he repeats. “This is a Pride video project.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I told you,” Peter says.

Carol looks at Maria. “He told you,” she affirms. 

Carol shrugs and looks back at the camera. “Okay, Pride. Can you give me, like, prompts? I don’t do good at monologuing.”

Maria silently hands her a can of baking soda and a teaspoon.

“How are you celebrating?” Spider-Man asks. 

Carol hums in thought, looks at Maria, and then back at the camera. “I mean, we painted flags on our plains, right? That was fun. Got paint all over the lawn, though.”

“Mhm,” Maria affirms.

“You gonna march?” 

“Maria’s usually busy that day,” Carol says. “I usually do a fly-by. Say hello to some people. The first year back on Earth I actually marched in it - greatest feeling, by the way. Last time I’d been on Earth was in the nineties, so I didn’t really expect to come back to Earth and find the queer community where it’s at today.”

“Where’s the second bag of chocolate chips?” Maria interrupts. She’s sorting through the ingredients pile. “I just saw it, honestly-”

“Um,” Carol says. “Under the flour?” She glances around in search, only to notice something off-camera and narrow her eyes.

The camera shifts to the side, where Monica is sitting on a barstool on the opposite side of the counter, eating from the extra bag of chocolate chips and scrolling through her phone.

“ _Monica_ ,” Maria says.

The camera cuts to black.

~~~

“Should I narrate what we’re cooking?” Natasha Romanoff asks the camera. She’s perched

on the far counter, clad in full Black Widow gear, as Daredevil - in a button down and black mask - stands with his arms crossed to her right. It’s the same Avengers compound kitchen as the last clip had featured.

“Nah,” Spider-Man says, off-camera. “It’s not really a cooking video.”

“Wait,” Daredevil says. “What?”

“Oh, okay,” Natasha says. “I can deal with that, then. It’s just, cooking, I’m not great at it.”

“I thought this was a cooking video,” Daredevil says.

“Double-Dee, I _just_ explained this to you,” Spider-Man says. “Twenty minutes ago, tops. When I called you.”

“I zoned out,” Daredevil admits. “There was a lot going on at the time.”

The pile of ingredients, this time, is on the counter by the camera. Natasha makes grabby hands at it. “Dee-dee, fetch me that bowl with the spices in it.”

“We are _not_ making Dee-dee a thing, Nat,” Daredevil says, but hands her the bowl nonetheless. 

Natasha pulls out the spice bottles and examines them. “I have to call you _something_ , Dee-dee, and we’re on camera,” she says. “Daredevil’s too long.”

Matt takes the spice bottle she’s holding and sniffs it curiously.

“This is extremely sub-par dried rosemary,” he points out. “Practically flavorless. Poor quality.”

Nat shushes him with a finger on the lips. “Shh,” she says. “The camera doesn’t know that, darling. You’re supposed to pretend. Cooking videos are all about the acting.”

“I thought this wasn’t a cooking video.”

“It’s not,” Spider-Man says.

“You never told me what it was, though.”

“He did,” Natasha says, “Earlier. When you were on the phone.”

“I mean, recently. When I was paying attention.”

“It’s for Pride,” Spider-Man explains. “I’m getting a bunch of LGBTQ superheroes to do crafts on camera and talk about Pride month, and since y’all are bi-”

“Pan,” Natasha corrects.

“-and pan,” Spider-Man amends, “You were my second choices. Well, third. I mean. Cap and Mr Barnes are in Wakanda right now.”

“Who was the first?” Daredevil asks.

“Carol and Maria,” Natasha says. “They didn’t have enough chocolate and then forgot to put a timer on the oven and it almost caught fire and the Compound smelled like smoke for hours. Carol told me about it.”

“And my camera cut out,” Peter adds.

“Explains the whole lightly roasted aura this room’s got going on,” Daredevil says.

“Mhm,” Natasha affirms. “We should start cooking, Dee-dee.”

Daredevil hefts a cooking pot from the pile of ingredients and hands to Natasha, who leans to her right, fills it up in the sink and then slides it onto the stove-top, all without getting up from her perch on the counter. Daredevil hands her a pasta box which she dutifully applies to the pot before tossing the empty box into automatically opening trash can across the kitchen and hitting it dead center.

“Wow,” Spider-Man says. 

“Show-off,” Daredevil says, fighting a smile.

Natasha fake-gasps. “Is that _affection_ in your voice, Dee-dee? You got that on camera, Spidey?”

“Affirmative,” Spidey says.

“If I start pretending I can’t hear you will you stop calling me Dee-dee?” Daredevil asks, handing Natasha the recipe sheet and a measuring cup.

She measures out spices into the small bowl. “Tooooo late.”

Daredevil sniffs the spice mixture curiously, then tastes it with one finger.

“Gross,” Spidey says.

“Just checking.” Daredevil sets the spices aside. “You did say you were a bad cook, Nat.”

“Oh, terrible,” Nat says. “That’s why I’m dating you. You’re the cook.”

Daredevil shakes his head and plucks a cutting-board from where it’s leaning against the fridge.

“He needs a kiss-the-cook apron,” Spider-Man says.

“I like the way you think.”

Daredevil hands Natasha the cutting-board with a large knife and a head of garlic. “Two cloves.”

“Two cloves, _please.”_

“Two cloves, please, darling.”

Natasha, still holding the knife, blows him a kiss and starts chopping. Daredevil puts a saucepan on the stove and dribbles in some olive oil, back turned to the camera.

“You’re supposed to talk about Pride,” Spidey reminds them.

“Pride’s lovely,” Nat says, carefully mincing the garlic into dust-sized specks with the cutting board balanced across her thighs.

“What’s your favorite bit?”

“Seeing faux-patriotic bigots dying on the inside at the monthly reminder that the Avengers celebrate Pride.”

“How very in the spirit of things,” Daredevil says, and removes the cutting-board from her lap before she can mince the garlic any smaller. He pours it into the saucepan and hands her a wooden spoon from a drawer. “Stir. Please.”

Natasha reaches over the boiling pasta pot to do as requested. Daredevil starts rifling through the kitchen drawers, tapping each of the items within as if to test their weight.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Can opener.”

“Just give it here, I’ll do it.”

Daredevil hands Natasha a can of sliced tomatoes and she uses the knife she’d chopped garlic with to pry off the lid. He pours the tomatos into the saucepan, tosses the can over his back into the trash.

There’s a rustling behind the camera and the empty can of tomatoes goes flying back at Daredevil, accompanied by a loud “YEET!”

Daredevil snaps a hand up to catch it and tilts his head towards the source of the voice.

“Recycle, bitch,” Spidey says. Daredevil opens the cabinet under the counter and tosses the can away.

“Give me something to do, Dee-dee,” Natasha says, swinging her legs against the cabinet.

Daredevil hands her a zucchini. “Slice,” he commands.

“Slice, _please_ ,” she reprimands.

“Slice, please.”

She adjusts the cutting board on her lap and slices.

Daredevil pulls the pasta pot off the stove and drains the water in a cloud of steam that envelops the left side of the room.

“You two are a lot better at this than Carol and Maria were,” Spider-Man says. 

“He cooks a lot,” Natasha says, pointing at Daredevil with the knife.

Daredevil shrugs. “I like preparing my own food. Helps me know what’s in it, what to expect. I’ve some sensory issues that make it easier to cook my food myself.”

“Get yourself a boo who cooks good dinners, Spidey,” Natasha says, as she leans over the stove to brush the zucchini into the tomato pot. “Quality of life SKYROCKETS.”

“Why do that when I could arrive uninvited at Dee-dee’s apartment whenever he’s cooking dinner, Natasha?” Spidey asks.

“Please don’t make that nickname catch on,” Daredevil says. “And, please don’t start taking all of my food.”

“Too late.”

Daredevil sighs and the video cuts away.

  
  
  


~~~

“We’re just painting a birdhouse?” Kate Bishop asks.

“You’re just painting a birdhouse,” Spider-Man confirms. 

“Kate, there’s a birdhouse and everything,” America Chavez says, gesturing to the birdhouse and everything. “What do you _think_ we’re doing?”

“I dunno,” Kate says. She’s perched on a stool behind the counter of Clint Barton’s kitchen counter, upon which a birdhouse is surrounded by various craft painting supplies. “There’s always a twist, right? In craft videos?”

“That’s a murder mystery, Kate, not a crafting video.”

“We can make it a murder mystery,” Spider-Man says, from behind the camera. “If you want.”

“Just try it, hun,” America says, narrowing her eyes.

Kate flips a paintbrush from the counter across her knuckles and mimes throwing it at Spider-Man. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

Kate pulls one of the paint cartridges across the counter and starts fiddling with the pop-up sections. “What colors are we, like, painting it? Does it matter?”

“Up to you.”  
“You said this is for Pride, right?” America Chavez asks Spider-Man. “Pride colors. Easy. Different flag each side.”

“Oh my god you’re a genius, hun,” Kate says, giving America big doe-eyes. “Like, flag stripes. Hold on. We should draw flag stripes. With a ruler. Clint, where do you keep the rulers?”

There’s a long, drawn out pause, and Clint - off camera - says, “Why the fuck would I own a ruler, Kate?”

“Ugh,” Kate says. “I forgot you’re too much of a dumbass to own useful things.”

“Says the girl who regularly steals my duct tape!”

“I just _run out_ , okay, Clint -”

“That’s no excuse, try buying some more-”

“I _do_ , and I _run out_ , because I’m a busy woman unlike you-”

America looks directly into the camera and gives a long sigh.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Spider-Man says loudly, cutting the two of them off. “Just use the edge of a book or something.”

“Ugh,” Kate mutters. 

America steps out of the camera frame to fetch a book. Kate pulls out her phone, protected by a massive, blocky purple case, and starts tapping furiously. “I found a thing of Pride flags,” she announces. “We can’t fit, like, all of them, but - if we did the roof rainbow and then there’s four sides and a bottom, so - that would be five -”

“Aw, you learned to do math,” America purrs. Kate throws a paintbrush at her without looking up from her phone.

“So bi, trans, pan, non-binary, lesbian. Ace for the little triangles above the squares, right? You know, the - these things.” She turns the birdhouse front towards the camera and taps the upper triangle formed by the roof on the front facing panel. 

America sidles back into frame holding a heavy-looking encyclopedia and a pencil. She hops onto a stool and Kate frowns at her in confusion. “Clint owns an encyclopedia?”

“I use it to look for words when I’m doing the crossword,” Clint explains, sounding nearer the kitchen. He leans against the counter opposite America and Kate, bringing his right forearm into view of the camera. “What’s this video for again and why am I not invited?”

“Pride month vlog with queer superheroes,” Spider-Man says. “I’m interviewing them with their found families while they do crafts. It was actually supposed to be a professional thing, it just devolved.”

“Oh,” Clint says. “Should’ve expected that, Spidey. Can’t get a job like this without a natural inclination towards disaster.”

“Um,” Spider-Man says.

“Who else is doing it?” Clint asks.

“Captain Danvers and Maria, Daredevil, Ms Romanoff. I asked Ms, uh, Queen? Brunnhilde but she hasn’t responded. Wade keeps asking me to do one of him but I’m kind of scared to put him on camera.”

“As well you should be, man’s a walking PR disaster.”

“Look who’s talking,” Kate says, staring past the camera to glare at Clint.

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint audibly stifles a yawn. “Well, you two have, uh, fun with that. Don’t get paint on my counter.”

“Of course not,” Kate says. “We can paint without spilling it, what do you think we are, children?”

“Dunno, man,” Clint mumbles, and his footsteps retreat from the counter. 

“We should definitely get a newspaper,” Kate whispers to America, as soon as Clint is suitably far away.

“No shit,” America says, and hops off her stool in search of one.

Kate picks up a pencil and the book to trace the lines of flag stripes along the birdhouse. “I feel like I should, ah….make a disclaimer,” she says, sounding distracted as she focuses on the flag stripes. “That, there are only so many sides to this birdhouse, but there are a lot more ways to identify yourself than I can fit on here, and that’s great, please don’t mistake geometrical struggles for gatekeeping - because that’s a dumbass thing to do, obviously, and you can quote me on that.”

America sidles back into frame with a newspaper. “Giving quotes now, huh?”

“I’m right, though,” Kate says, lifting up the birdhouse as America slides the unfolded paper under it. “Right?”

“Mhm,” America says. “Voice of wisdom as always, princess.”

Kate flips the birdhouse onto its side and traces the bottom. 

“Honestly, I was raised thinking about those kinds of things differently,” America says. She picks out a pallet from the pile of art supplies and looks through the paint colors. “And it was a weird adjustment. I come from a place called the Utopian Parallel, and it - there were only women, aside from - well. There were only women, for the most part. So my being lesbian wasn’t something viewed as out of the ordinary until I came into this dimension. It was kind of the default option.”

“Whereas for me it was the opposite,” Kate says. She switches to tracing the birdhouse roof. “I’m bi, and I guess was kind of in denial, or I just never noticed that I was into girls until, like, a year or so ago and now I’m dating a literal _goddess_ -” she made heart eyes at America, who looked up from her palette. 

“That’s an exaggeration, babe,” America says, but leans forward to kiss Kate on the cheek regardless.

“You two are really cute,” Spider-Man says.

“We gotta be cuter than Daredevil and Ms Romanoff, right?” Kate asks. “They, like, bully each other whenever we’re near them.”

America finishes mixing together an array of colors on the palette and presents it to Kate.

“That’s just their love language. It’s not bullying, it’s, like, mostly not serious,” Spider-Man explains. “I don’t really get it either but they seem happy. And Ma- Daredevil - let me keep some of the pasta, and it was really really good, so at least they’re good at cooking together. That’s a good sign, right?”

Kate and America gave each other guilty looks.

“Oh,” Spider-Man says, suddenly sounding awkward. 

“They broke my oven last week,” Clint says. He’s so far behind the camera his voice is barely audible. “And set off the fire alarm, and wasted all my flour.”

“We’re great at birdhouses, though,” America says. She glances at Kate’s phone as a reference as she starts painting the structure’s roof in rainbow colors. “That can be our ‘good sign’.”

“Sure,” Spider-Man says. “Sounds like a great sign.”

“Damn right,” Kate says, and pauses to squint at the side she’s painting orange, white and pink. “Shit, I messed up.”

“ _Already_?” America gasps, and leans over to see what Kate did. “Fuck, you did, hold on-” she leans the other way, causing her stool to wobble precariously, and plucks a towel from a rack on a drawer to hand to Kate. 

Kate takes the towel and scrubs furiously at the paint for a long few moments, then squints 

at it and sits back. “Okay, crisis diverted, project back on track. We good. We’re good.”

“We better be good, hun, this is our good sign.” America gives Kate a look over the completed rainbow birdhouse roof.

“See, the thing with the ‘sign’, is, we’re like, twenty somethings,” Kate says, setting back to work with her paintbrush. “And I feel like with the economy and the boomers and futzing, Madame Masque and shit, we’re under enough pressure as it is, without telling us we gotta be _good_ at things too. Can’t we just be alive at things and have that be enough?”

“Maybe our ‘good thing’ is superheroing,” America suggests.

“Futz,” Kate says. “You’re right. We’re _fantastic_ at superheroing.”

“Didn’t you get kidnapped, like, last week?” Clint’s voice asks from behind the camera.

“Futz off, Clint,” Kate retorts, pointing her paintbrush at him and accidentally causing orange paint to splatter on the counter. “Oh, fuck.” She grabs the dish-towel and starts scrubbing again.

America, having just sat back to admire the completed second side, looks directly into the camera and sighs. The camera zooms in on her face and then out again in a clumsily edited time-skipping transition.

When it’s zoomed out again, Kate and America have swapped seats and are holding up the completed, fully painted birdhouse for the camera. Both are splattered in paint.

“Mission success,” Kate says, smiling. “Now I just need to find a friend with a tree and make them put this in it.”

“Let’s put a tree in the New Avengers compound,” America says. “Full grown oak, right in the training room, you gotta climb over it to get your gear-”

The video cuts to black.

~~~

“You gotta come do this with me, Spidey,” Wade Wilson is saying, from his perch upon a large red couch. The wallpaper behind him is paisley patterned and lit with sunlight, with bullet holes in the plaster. Upon Wade’s lap is piled red yarn and knitting needles. His face, hidden behind the red fabric of the Daredevil mask, is angled towards the camera.

“The video’s not supposed to have me in it,” Spider-Man says. “I’m just the cameraman-”

“Shut up and come knit with me, Spidey.” Wade pats the couch next to where he’s sitting. “This is a two person venture. I need a dread companion.”

There’s a pause, a rustling noise, and then Spider-Man steps around the camera. He’s wearing a hoodie, cuffed jeans, and fingerless gloves along with the Spider-Man mask, and sits precariously on the edge of the couch, like he doesn’t know how to act now he’s on tape.

Deadpool disregards this and hands him one of his several spools of yarn. “Would you like large, medium, or small knitting needles?” He asks, holding up one of each - the largest of which is the length of his forearm - and giving Spider-Man a look that somehow seems expectant despite the mask.

Spider-Man stares at them. “Um,” he says, “is there a difference?”

“Big one’s better for stabbing,” Deadpool says cheerfully. “But the small one’s more painful.”

“Medium,” Spider-Man says, sounding dubious. Deadpool hands over the medium needles in question and takes the largest ones for himself.

“Okay, so,” Deadpool begins. “To start - and trust me here, I’ve made lots of scarves, they’re great for choking people - to unconsciousness, of course,” he adds hastily, when Spider-Man gives an anxious look at the camera - “...in self defense, but the point being - you have to start by making a little loopdeloop around the needle, like this.” 

He demonstrates. Spider-Man, watching him closely, mimics the action, but Deadpool shakes his head.

“No, not like _that_ \- you’ve got it backwards.”

“Oh,” Spider-Man says. He undoes what he’s done and tries again. “Like this?”

“That’s it. Okay, now, you tuck the needle under the thread - poke it through, right - and you pull the yarn over - yeah! And then you gotta pull the needle through the yarn, bring that little bit of - yeah, bring that with it - and pull it through, and finish the stitch. Like that. You got it?” Deadpool seizes Spider-Man’s knitting needle and inspects it. “Right. You got it. Now do it again.”

“Same thing?” Spider-Man asks, staring down at the knitting needles.

“Same thing,” Deadpool confirms. “Same thing all scarf round, baby. This is an _endurance_ sport. You gotta keep going and going and going and going and -”

“Yeah, okay,” Spider-Man says. “I get the idea. It just seems a little boring for a vi-”

He cuts himself off as a scuffling noise comes from the couch’s right, followed by the clicking and sliding of a window opening. The sunlight flooding the couch is cut off by a shadow as a silhouette blocks the window from the outside.

“Wade, we need to talk about that den down on - oh, Spidey,” a voice calls, as the silhouette clambers through the window and pauses on the sill. “I didn’t think you were here.”

Deadpool gives the figure a death stare. “You’re lucky I don’t stab you with this knitting needle for climbing breaking into the window like that, hunny.”

“You did,” the voice points out. “Last week. See?” There’s a rustling of fabric and the silhouette pulls at something on its neck. 

“I don’t remember that,” Deadpool says, dubious. “Sure it’s not a hickey?”

“Sure,” The voice confirms. “Your neighbors are nosy, man, I’m not taking the door. Are you and Spidey… _knitting_?”

“I’m filming, Ma - ah, Daredevil,” Spidey says. “It’s for that project you and Nat did.”

“You’re going to take a video,” Daredevil says flatly, “of _Wade Wilson_ , and you’re gonna put it on the internet where everyone can see it.”

“Um?”

“I don’t see where that could _possibly_ go wrong,” Daredevil says, all dry wit, and hops off the windowsill. He strolls over to the two of them, into the camera frame. He’s fully clad in Daredevil armour, only his jaw visible - graced by a 5 o’clock shadow and smudged with faint traces of blood. He folds his arms and stares down at them.

Wade seizes a pair of knitting needles and tries to hand them to him.. Daredevil, on instinct, brings his arms up to shield himself, only to recognize Wade’s intent and accept the needles.

“Knit,” Wade commands, handing over a spool of yarn. “It’s a bonding activity.”  
“Bonding activity,” Daredevil says slowly, holding the yarn like it’s a strange animal about to bite him.

“Mhm,” Wade says. “I’ll show you - come here.” He leans over the arm of the couch, grabs a stray thread dangling from the yarn, and uses it to pull Daredevil closer to the couch. Once Daredevil’s standing right by the arm of the couch, Wade shifts so he’s kneeling on the cushion, facing Daredevil.

“Like this,” Wade says, holding the knitting needles over Daredevil’s hands and moving them to knit a stitch. “Loopdeloop, then throuuuugh the loop, then pull it over, needle goes through, finish the stitch - there we go! We did it! You got that, hun?”

“Yes,” Daredevil says, dubious. Wade, satisfied, settles back into his spot on the couch. 

“We’re supposed to talk about Pride month now,” Spider-Man says, watching his knitting needles as he tries to keep the scarf going. “It’s the point of the project.”

“Pride? Love pride. What about it?”

Daredevil absently knots his yarn around the needle without attempting a proper stitch. 

“Like, what you do for it. FUCK.” Spider-Man accidentally stabs his finger and hisses in pain.

Wade gives Spider-Man a look that manages to be stern despite the mask and tut-tuts. “Language.”

“Answer the _question_.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wade tips his head back in consideration. “Sometimes I join the marches. Sometimes I find strange towns out in the south that don’t have any pride celebrations and stage a one-man pride parade. Strictly for awareness purposes, you see. Sometimes I glitter-bomb the lawns of homophobes. I’ve started at the ‘legal’ side of the slippery scale, see, but if you’d like me to continue, I do have this great story about me and the Westboro Baptist Church-”

“That’s alright,” Spidey says hastily. “I get the picture.”

“You forgot the charity work,” Daredevil reminds Wade, voice mild as he continues to calmly knot his yarn into unrecognizable thickets of red fuzz. 

“Right,” Wade says. “Well, you set that up, really.”

“But you always do it.”

“Charity work?” Spider-Man asks.

“There are several charities around New York that work with the community. Homeless youth, outreach, that sort of thing. I usually spend June weekends doing volunteer work,” Daredevil says. “Wade comes with me.”

“I’m bad at it,” Wade dismisses.

“You’re not.”

“I scare the children.”

“The children,” Daredevil says, “Are fine. They think you’re hilarious for reasons I don’t pretend to understand.”

“That’s actually...a nice idea,” Spider-Man says. “Can I come?”

“Sure.”

“Dee-dee, you’ve made a mess of your scarf,” Wade observes, frown audible in his voice.

“It’s a choice,” Daredevil dismisses, calmly continuing to knot up the yarn. “Did you learn that name from Natasha? I don’t like it. Stop making it catch on.”

“Okay, Deedee,” Wade says absently. He’s focused on his scarf once again.

The video cuts to black.

**Author's Note:**

> Below is the tumblr link for the art, done by magical_tophats on insta!
> 
> https://magicaltophats.tumblr.com/post/622011557152440320/insta-didnt-wanna-work-so-here-i-am-on-my-unused


End file.
